


Growls

by thewinchesterrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex - Female Recieving, Oral Sex - Male Recieving, Reader Insert, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, brief mention of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinchesterrose/pseuds/thewinchesterrose
Summary: After Metatron killing Dean and him turning into a demon, you and Sam have brought him back in order to revert him to the human you loved





	Growls

**Author's Note:**

> MY MASTERLIST ON TUMBLR  
> https://thewinchesterrose.tumblr.com/post/173256082740/the-winchester-roses-masterlist

It was the Mark. It had to have been. Nothing that demonic, not even possession, would’ve made the low, animalistic growls, echoing through the bunker from the dungeon. It came after screams, grunts and once a cry. Sam had been in there facing this new identity of his brother, holding back the fear and fright he held knowing he may not get Dean back. As Sam plunged another needle and vile of blessed blood into Dean’s straining arm, Dean growled and grunted. You stood there watching. That’s all you could do.

Sam glanced to you throughout the treatment, just to check up on you. Sam knew this strain wasn’t just on him but you too. You loved Dean and he loved you. You’d never hurt him and god forbid, Dean would kill himself if he ever hurt you or touched you wrongly.

“(Y/N)?” Sam asked, breaking you from your train of thought. “How you holding up?”

“I’m fine Sammy,” you replied, placing a small smile on your face. He nodded and grabbed his jacket. He placed a small kiss to your hair and walked to the door.

“I’m getting some more blood, make sure he doesn’t get to you.” Sam said, concerned.

You nodded. “I’ll be fine Sam. You just make sure no demons get to your other shoulder.” He laughs a little at the comment and turns to leave. His boots echoes filled the quiet atmosphere and it wasn’t long before you heard the familiar roar of the impala leaving the bunkers garage.

You walked inside the dungeon, the demon blade in your belt. Dean’s head hung low, the echoing of your own footsteps made him look up. His hair was fuller and more styled, the dark maroon shirt and black shirt underneath fit his body well. His perfect lips stretched into one of his dark smirks.

“Hey there, (Y/N).” He smiled, but it was confronting, almost devilish. You swallowed a little and looked at him. You were scared. Your eyes were trembling, but your face and posture suggested that you couldn’t give two fucks about what was going on. In your mind, you thought about the things he could do in his new…skin. You had seen what the First Blade had done, what with Abaddon’s bloody bath and all, but Dean was human then. He’s now a demon, more so a knight of hell. You could only imagine, and god forbid never experience, the things he could do now. But a thought also crossed your mind. If Dean had turned a one-eighty, what did you mean to him?

A heavy, deep chuckle broke your thought. Dean raised his head, lips stretched into a smirk and eyebrows relaxed. “I can hear your thoughts.” He chimed. Your heart jumped a beat but settled as you sat down. “And yes, I am worse.” He paused. “Yes, I am a knight of hell.” He looked down. “And yes, you still mean something to me.” You looked up at the sudden change of tone he had. Your face fell actually showing empathy for Dean. “You’re just another target and play toy for me.” He smirked as you growled and walked over.

“It wonders me sometimes how you actually get by without Sam and I having to babysit your ass. I mean you’ve got all this rage and anger built up inside of you, it puzzles me into why you yourself aren’t a demon.” He chuckles and smirks. “It was daddy. Daddy taught you well. Daddy disciplined you. Daddy made you what you are (Y/N).”

Your (E/C) eyes widened. You hadn’t told anyone about your past and never intended to. Not Ellen, Bobby, your surrogate parents. Not Castiel, an angel who probably knew but never mentioned it for good intentions. Heck even the Winchester boys didn’t know and you’ve been with them since two years before Sam left to Stanford. For this new asshole form of Dean, someone you cared about and loved dearly to use it against you stung and hit like knives. The audacity this thing had. You didn’t think of Dean as your partner and best friend. You saw a monster. A monster who killed, hurt and threw good morals away.

Heart over head, you backhanded him incredibly hard, making his head snap to the side. He looked up at you, a dark scowl. “You listen to me you low standard, inconsiderate soulless monster. You don’t talk, you don’t make a sound. You sit there and you shut your mouth! You don’t talk about me like that, you aren’t my Dean!”

“Oh I am your Dean sweetheart. It’s a new lean, mean model of Dean. Faster, quicker. Bloody hell, more lustful.” He dragged his too perfect pink lips through his toothy smirk, eyeing your body.

“You mean an alcoholic, self troubled, low life of a jackass?” You were doubting your choice of retaliation. His eyes flickered back as he growled and lunged towards you, the restraints of the chair and better yet Devils Trap stopping him.

You stepped back, scared from the fright. He looked at you growling then laughing seeing your once newfound confidence drain from your face. “Where was the girl that loved me so much?” He asked, tilting and shaking his head to the side. “Would give soul and heart for me?”

“She died when Dean did.”

“But then again, she was always a drag. Always whining, complaining, saying she never had the best life. She irritated me. I never said it because, well, I was considerate, humane. But now I’m free to speak my mind.”

You walked to the table, the last bit of blood laying in a needle.

“It’s not going to work, you know.”

You didn’t listen. You picked it up and walked over, plunging it a little to harshly than you would’ve hoped. Dean grunted, even cried out at the harsh gesture. He bent his head and whimpered as the blood burnt his demon form. Once it was gone, you pulled it out and walked to the table, like Sam had done multiple times. He chuckles deeply, it’s presence making you shiver. “Oh fuck, that’s a good feeling. When I get out, I’m going to have fun with you!”

You left the dungeon, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as they stung. You walked to the kitchen, unable to realise the thing you were doing. You were killing him. The unhinged of your phone tore away your passive thoughts. The ID read “S.W”, you answered. “Hey Sam,” you greeted, wiping your eyes.

“Hey (Y/N), how you holding up?” Sam inquired.

“I’m fine Sammy, just some things of what he said are troubling me.” You tell, not mentioning the fact of your past.

“I know (Y/N)” Sam reassured. “But we’ve got a problem.” When the word ‘problem’ left his mouth it added to stack.

“Sam what’s wrong?”

“The blood banks down, it was attacked by. Found a fang-”

“Vamps raided a blood bank.” You stated. “How is that a problem?”

“The next one is two hours away.” He said. The tone in his voice said everything. You were absolutely fucked. Replying with a torn ‘oh’ he reassured that everything was going to be okay and so on so forth.

You hung up soon later, but when you did the bunkers lights went red. Flickering on and off, your heartbeat quickened as you heard it. Deep, animalistic growls, faint but audible. You realised the one thing you missed. The more you pumped blood into Dean and made him more human, the less demon possessed him. He would walk through that trap like nothing. You were NOW officially fucked.

Knowing you’d lure him by a rookie move, you ran your hands along the wall to the room with protection in a way. He was still part demon. Holy water and the demon knife stuck to your belt would do it. You ran into the room you consciously remembered and grabbed what you needed. The dungeon.

The doors suddenly closed, even the one to the storage room. You turned and ran to it, trying to open the metal restraints. Dean chuckled as he stood in the corner, the rope cut from the wrists and ankles laid on the seat. You watched as he came towards the border of the Devils Trap, smirking as he stepped over the line. “You know the funny thing about the blood change?” He stalks towards you, you gripping the demon knife. “It makes me less of a demon and more of a human.”

“I noticed.”

You looked up with fear, Dean catching on. But rather than taking advantage, he reassured you. “I still love you (Y/N). No matter what I am, who I am, the love and care I have for you will never change.” You looked up at him. Maybe the blood was turning him back, because those where the each words Dean told you when he first got the Mark. But you couldn’t put your guard down. He was still a demon yes, but, you loved him. You’d never hurt him.

He cups your cheek, the eerily similar gentle touch of Dean’s coming back to you. You couldn’t help but lean into it. He smiles a little, kissing your lips gently.

You dropped the knife and gripped his hair tightly, the dark growl raising from his throat. He pulled your top off, letting your bra on as he hungrily kissed your chest. “I’ve been wanting to kiss and touch your beautiful body ever since I changed.” He slides down your jeans and panties, him kneeling as the fabrics are torn from your ankles. He kisses your thighs gently, the tingling sensation of his breath, stubble and volumed hair between your thighs, made you let out a wanton moan. He hadn’t touched you yet and you were already getting nerves. Was it fear or pure pleasure?

You moaned as his lips and slight touch of tongue brushed along your folds. He picked up your thigh and slung it over his shoulder as he sucked, lapped and moaned at the taste of you. You whimper as your orgasm edged you on. You cursed and swore, gripping his hair. “Dean…” Every nerve in your small 5'9" body was being set alight, lightning quick strikes and heat set fire to every living cell of your body. He sucked on your clit hard, swirling that god forsaken tongue around repeatedly. He dragged it up and down, pushing occasionally into your dripping core. Jesus, Dean’s demeanour of the tough, brooding and scary as hell man didn’t seem to exist in this context. Even as a demon, his actions were soft and longing, savouring the love being made.

You cried out as you came hard, the walls of your pussy tightening and shaking. Dean moaned and lapped up whatever he could. He was like a hungry, starved man. You collapsed as he quickly without hesitation pulled down his jeans and boxers. His length sprang to attention and pointed upwards. You bit your lip a little eagerly, Dean catching on.

“Do it.” He growled, he gripped his length and gave slow strokes to the hardened flesh. “Suck me with your pretty big mouth.” You obliged. You kneeled down as it pointed in your face. He gripped the back of your head making sure his hand was full of (Y/H/C) waves. You gripped his length and stroked gently as you applied kitten licks to the tip. Using whatever fluid caught on, you circled your thumb over the head, digging slightly into the slit as precome pulsed out. Dean once again emitted growls and groans.

You took him into your mouth slowly. Licking and pressing your tongue into his length helped you pleasure him. You gagged a little, but Dean persisted, pushing into your mouth gently but dominant. He moaned when he hit the back of your throat. Without his assistance, you bobbed your head up and down, stroking what you couldn’t suck.

“Oh fuck baby girl.” Dean moaned. You sucked, licked and swallowed. He grew larger and began to pulse as his veins grew. Dean feeling this sensation pulled out of your mouth. Whilst you whimpered at the loss of someone enjoyment he pulled you up.

When you were about to question him, he picked you up by the thighs and kissed your neck. He pushed himself in slowly, allowing you to stretch and accomodate to his size. A wanton moan left your lips and a slight yelp at that when he bottomed out inside of you. He too, had groaned at the sudden contact and couldn’t help but growl. “Oh god, this feels just as I imagined. So fucking tight and wet…” He started to roll his hips and slam into your pussy, each thrust dragging deliciously over your sweet spot, your clit once again stimulated gently by the skin of his hips

You moan and even cry out more. You knew it was wrong but you loved him so much you didn’t care. You bounced up and down his length hard and quick, the sweet love making kisses peppered to your body and neck. He thrusts hard into you, him moaning as his hot breath caressed the wet skin in the places he kisses you sloppily. You curse and groan as Dean looks at you. You stared at each other for some time as he pounded you against the wall. His candy apple green eyes were there, his freckles peppered where you remembered. His somewhat heart and humanity left in his eyes and soul. You both moan simultaneously as your orgasms were edging you on. Your clit and for sure numb walls were being overstimulated from the extreme sex montage and event happening in the cold and hard dungeon.

You cry out as you release, your body shaking as Dean thrusted further, rutting if you will, whilst you still were pressed against the wall. He growled and gripped your shoulder tightly as he pushed over the edge. White streaks of his hot release shot out, coating your numb walls and trickling down your legs. He looks at you panting, as you return a tired and worn out expression. He kisses you gently a sudden change from moments before. You kiss back as he pulls out carefully and sits you down. You both step back from each other as Dean pulled his jeans and boxers pooled at his ankles up. You grabbed your own attire and dressed. 

-oOo-

Two hours later, Sam had returned with the last of the blood. You waited outside the dungeon, not wanting to see Dean in pain. Then they stopped. The low animalistic growls were gone. Your heart skipped a beat. Was he dead? You turn into the dungeon and stand beside the 6'4" man as he watched his brother gasp and his eyes turn from pitch black to the bright ones you love.

Both you and Sam smile in relief and after a holy water test, Dean was back and he was good. You lead him out and to the kitchen, made him his favourite food and a cup of straight black coffee as he ate and remained humane. Dean was back. He was okay. But the Mark of Cain that burned bright bloody red on his right inner arm, above his veins, still stood there. It stuck out as if swollen, the twisted seven and dashes making you feel a little dizzy. There had to be a way. Right?


End file.
